Torchwood: Of profits and prophets

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

–Robert Frost, “Acquainted with the Night”

For some reason, Exposition News has been conducting lots of interviews with Oswald Danes on his thoughts about why we should have a universal health care program. Because the world cares very, very much about what a convicted child rapist/murderer has to say on the price of prescription drugs in the middle of an unimaginable world-wide crisis. Oswald is burbling about needing to pay attention to the pharmaceutical companies’ profits on a television screen in Newman’s house in the dead of night, the sound of which lures the agent downstairs, and straight into Rex’s trap. Rex pulls a gun on Newman, and demands to know why Newman’s turned the entire CIA against him and Babe. And while Rex understands that he can’t kill Newman under the current circumstances, he could make life, however long that is, quite unpleasant for him if Newman chooses to not cooperate. Newman explains that he’s not sure who They are, just that They have been paying him for years, and contact him on a particular phone, which he readily hands over. They’re everywhere, Newman warns, They know everything. But no time to chat! The police are almost here, and so off the new Torchwood goes, after Gwen lays down some tire spikes to lose the coppers.

Sometime later, Gwen, having gone shopping, returns to their D.C. safe house and watches a silent candlelit and bemasked march of some sort slowly go by. Inside the safe house, Gwen explains that thanks to everyone panicking, the only food she could find were some crisps, which I find thoroughly unrealistic because when I hunker down, I only do so with piles and piles of fried. Babe assures Gwen that her family is safely hidden away somewhere, and that the cult outside with the sad emoticon masks and the candles call themselves The Soulless, because they believe that everlasting life has robbed them of their souls. Indeed.

As for the phone that Newman gave Rex, it’s impossible to trace for some blah blah reason. Something about it branching out to thousands of other places or something, it doesn’t matter, bottom line, they have no idea where the calls on Newman’s space phone are coming from.

Rex, who is nursing that gaping chest wound of his, thinks that Oswald Danes is onto something with this whole FREE DRUGZ 4 ALL!! plan. Capt. Jack, however, is keeping his eye on this Oswald Danes, and anyone else who is benefitting from this whole Miracle Day business, for that matter. Meanwhile, Babe would like to call her sister, Marissa, but Rex has a whole freak out about how it would lead the CIA right to them and everyone tells him to chill and maybe not be so yelly all the time, and then he pouts when Capt. Jack announces that he’s in charge here, anyway, seeing as they are now members of Torchwood since the CIA dumped them.

So, Capt. Jack has been thinking about this whole Miracle Day thing, and it strikes him as interesting that it’s not just that people are not dying, it’s that they are so super alive, almost like something, a consciousness or a will or a dude in a giant foot on a beach somewhere, is forcing them to live. Morphic fields! Whatever that means!

Babe, in the meantime, has discovered, somehow, I DON’T KNOW HOW, DON’T BOTHER ASKING, that Newman buried some investigation into a warehouse somewhere, which means that it is probably worth looking into. So they steal a car, beat up a guard and hotwire their way into the warehouse where they discover boxes and boxes and boxes of a non-narcotic pain killer from pharmaceutical company, PhiCorp. And some more boxes. Like hundreds of thousands more. Looks like someone knew Miracle Day was coming! And is a little skimpy on their security budget!

At the hospital, Dr. Caliente harangues a cop for a while for not charging an abusive husband with murder — which, in his defense, he can’t do if there’s no murder — before being interrupted by a call reminding her of Day 2 of DoctorPalooza. There the doctors are yelling at each other about various ethical dilemmas: abortions aren’t taking, India and China are putting contraceptives in the water supply, &c. Dr. Caliente, however, thinks they need to be focusing on finding more facilities, but she is ignored because that is far less interesting that wondering what to do with a failed abortion. Well, ignored by everyone but Jilly who is sitting in on this meeting for no particularly good reason that I can tell.

Dr. Caliente takes a cigarette break where Jilly corners her, and through a brutal combination of guilt and really fast talking almost convinces Dr. Caliente to attend some sort of PhiCorp presentation. Almost.

Back at the safe house, Rex argues that they need to expose the connection between PhiCorp and Miracle Day for the good of humanity or something. And the best idea he can come up with is to contact a former CIA friend of his and suggest they meet at a hotel somewhere. Because Rex is very trusting and very stupid. Sure enough, the hotel is immediately surrounded by cops and SWAT teams and soldiers and stormtroopers, all of which Rex disappointedly watches from afar. (And I know that we only have, what? 10 episodes to tell this entire story, but this whole subplot would have been much more effective and believable and worth the five minutes we spent on it — and 15 minutes I spent thinking about how to write about it — if we’d met this agent, if we saw his relationship with Rex and cared about it. Then it would feel like the alienating and isolating betrayal that it is supposed to be. As it is, this just feels like a big “Eh.”)

After taking out his frustrations on the rest of Torchwood in yet another yelly snit, THAT’S IT. REX OUT. And off he drives, snittily.

Stranded, the remaining three begin the walk back to the safe house, until Capt. Jack is distracted by a raucous gay bar, at which point he excuses himself.

And then there were two. Gwen and Babe bond over Robert Frost and walking and death and Babe wanting to be with her sister and worrying about holding everyone back and Gwen convinces her otherwise and yay for a realistic and positive portrayal of a female friendship for a change.

At the Golden Gopher, meanwhile, Capt. Jack is busy making the sexy eyes at Brad the Bartender, who clearly has a thing for World War II flyboy coats and handsome immortals.

Exposition News tells us that high-level Washington officials are wondering if this whole thing has been caused by E.T.s, but not on the record or anything because, crazy. In other news: life sentences for prisoners! Whadda we gonna do about that?! Oswald turns the news off in his grim motel room, and, tired of looking at the same dingy walls, decides to sneak away from his guard and go get himself a slice of pie at a nearby diner. Who can blame him, really.

Dr. Caliente comes home from a long day of being ignored to find Rex waiting in her dark bedroom, needing his ahem, wound to be ahem, dressed. She addresses it.

Capt. Jack is also busy getting his wound dressed by Brad the Bartender. So, so many sexytimes.

But no sexytimes for Oswald, fortunately. At the diner, he is recognized by a couple at a nearby table. They take his picture with their phone, but not in a fun “Hey, isn’t that the guy from Mr. Wrong?” kind of way, and then follow him out of the diner, screaming about how he’s that child killer. There is literally a ridiculous “LET’S GITTEM!” moment, when they start chasing him down? For some reason? But Oswald finds some cops who shoo the couple away, and offer him a ride back to his motel. Except that ride includes a detour through an isolated ditch, where the policemen use Oswald as a punching bag for a while. But they never hit his face! Can’t be ruining that handsome face when he has all those teevee interviews to do…

His wound properly dressed, Rex tells Dr. Caliente about PhiCorp having prepared for Miracle Day with the drugs and the stockpiling. Dr. Caliente has a sad when she realizes that she took Mama Caliente off life-support just a few months too early, and has an infuriated when she thinks that someone knew that this was coming… She tells Rex about the invitation to PhiCorp’s presentation, and Rex insists she go and help him get inside to do all of the spying. He stupidly pushes too hard, however, and drags Dead Mama Caliente into it, and she kicks him and his wound out.

Capt. Jack, still in bed with Brad the Bartender, drunk dials Gwen to tell her how much he missed her while he was away. They make a great team, right? And while it’s sad that Ianto had to die before this whole Miracle Day thing happened, they still have each other — and that’s all they need, right? However, Gwen is too busy video chatting with her husband and adorable baby to respond.

Jilly is waiting for Oswald when his police escort deposit him back at the fleabag motel. She offers him another chance: he can stay here, or come with her and “stride across the skin of the world.” Flowery!

In the morning light, Dr. Caliente has a change of heart, and calls Rex to let him know she’ll get him inside the PhiCorp meeting. Rex, who has also had a change of heart, has returned to Torchwood, and is marveling over Gwen’s awesome alien contact lenses — the ones that allow whatever she sees to be transmitted back to a computer screen. NOT ONLY THAT, they can lip read! Handy! Rex is thoroughly impressed, and ready to slap them onto his eyeballs, when Gwen lies and claims that they only work on her eyeballs. K SRY. Looks like she’ll have to be the one to sneak into PhiCorp, which is a really good idea, seeing as whomever is behind Miracle Day — and there seems to be increasing evidence that PhiCorp at least knows something about something — seems to also have an interest in destroying Torchwood already. So sending one of the last two remaining members of Torchwood into the belly of the beast = solid plan.

Dr. Caliente is escorted into PhiCorp and led to a theater filled with a bunch of other well-respected doctors. She excuses herself to the bathroom to help let Rex in through a back door, but instead finds Gwen there waiting for her. 1. Maybe Rex should have given her more of a heads-up on the change in plans and 2. PhiCorp REALLY NEEDS TO INVEST IN SECURITY.

Also, back at Torchwood HQ, Babe gives Rex the stinkeye when it’s made clear he and Dr. Caliente have been dressing each others’ wounds, which I’m sure will be relevant down the road.

Gwen just cold wanders around PhiCorp without anyone paying her any mind, and happens to catch Jilly escorting Oswald … somewhere. The Torchwood agrees that while this is relevant to their interests, Gwen needs stay on mission. Capt. Jack, in the meantime, looks up a video of Oswald, who is going on about forgiveness being the cure or something.

Dr. Caliente heads back into the presentation, after calling Rex to ask about Gwen, and he encourages her to keep her telephone line open while the presentation is given. The presentation appears to be a video hosted by Congressman Patrick Morgan, explaining that the modern drug system, in the face of recent events, needs to be completely overhauled. That’s why they are currently working on legislation to do away with prescriptions altogether. Sure. Why not. I can’t think of any downsides to this plan.

Meanwhile, Gwen slips into Jilly’s office and hacks into her computer, because NO SECURITY AT ALL, and is momentarily panicked when Jilly unexpectedly returns. But thanks to that open phone line with Dr. Caliente, Rex is able to ask her to call Jilly and draw her back out of the office. Non-crisis averted.

At Torchwood, Newman’s space phone rings! Rex yells “WHO IS THIS?” into the phone a bunch, but there’s no response. And despite the fact that Babe is still unable to trace the call, Rex is pleased because he thinks they have Them worried, based on nothing in particular. Hey, where’s Capt. Jack?

Climbing through a window … somewhere. A television studio? Sure, let’s say a television studio, so as to confront Oswald Danes. Capt. Jack pulls a gun on Oswald and demands to know why Oswald met with PhiCorp earlier, and whether the name Jack Harkness was mentioned. Oswald assumes that this must be his gun man’s name, otherwise he wouldn’t care so much. Capt. Jack counters that he saw Oswald talking about how he feels forgiven, but he knows this is a lie. Oswald gets that creepy look in his eye and starts talking about how he doesn’t feel sorry at all for the murder of Suzy, and says a bunch of monstrous stuff about her murder that I can barely bring myself to read again, much less repeat, and long story short, the moment of her death was the best moment of his life. Capt. Jack lowers his weapon, and responds that he gets it now: Oswald wants to be executed. Which must be really tough for him with this whole no death thing going on. And ohbythway, Capt. Jack has been recording this entire conversation, which he intends to reveal to someone, everyone? Whatever, it doesn’t much matter, because Oswald calls in his PhiCorp goons who protect him now in exchange for his “message.” Oswald orders them to not hit Capt. Jack in the face, seeing as that’s not how it’s done these days.

And as Capt. Jack is bodily thrown out of the studio, he catches a glimpse of Oswald’s television interview in which he urges free access to drugs: people deserve the power to buy whatever drugs they want or need. Sure, drug companies might make a profit, but they’ll take better care of us than the government, because they have a vested interest. As Capt. Jack watches in horror, a woman approaches him, and asks if he saw Oswald inside? Did he touch him? On the screen, Oswald encourages the audience to join us, to walk on the skin of this world — the future, it is now endless, so take Oswald’s hand and walk with him…

Alright. A couple of quick things BEFORE THE NEXT EPISODE AIRS. There is a lot of darkness in this episode — much of it takes place at night, and obviously the reference to the Frost poem — which is clearly supposed to reflect the darkness of the characters’ situation, the loss of their normal lives and their isolation from the rest of the world, but also the darkness that has overcome humanity in the face of this catastrophe. This darkness has left people bereft, acting out, abandoning sobriety and control, or seeking solace with one another either in sex like Rex and Capt. Jack, or friendship like Babe and Gwen or, as in the case of the Soulless, seeking comfort with other strangers, replacing religion with something … else. They are walking together into an unknown and possibly eternal future.

Which brings me to the other symbol that is utilized a number of times in this episode: walking. The Soulless march silently through the streets together. Jilly urges Oswald to walk on the skin of the Earth, a creepy and evocative image that he repeats on air. Babe’s Frost poem is about walking in darkness, through the rain, outwalking the light. And then there’s Oswald’s chilling invitation to the viewers to walk with him towards … something, the future, however long that might be (and its terrifying echo, that image of Oswald chasing down an innocent child). It’s fascinating, walking is such a common metaphor that it was nearly impossible for me to even find anything about it, really. So, I’m going to take a stab at it: walking represents, obviously, a journey. But it also represents progress, passage, change. To walk with someone is to be connected to them, to be bonded with them, to be joined with them on a journey — or their journey. Interestingly, the walking in Babe’s poem was done alone, which reflects the individual members of Torchwood’s sense of isolation and loss. But Oswald urges viewers to walk with him, which suggests the building of a community … the question is where he will lead them: to some bright hopeful future, or off a cliff.

Finally, we’ve got to talk about PHIcorp. Phi is a Greek letter that is used as a symbol for a bunch of stuff including wonky things like magnetic flux, latitude, the fugacity coefficient in thermodynamics which I absolutely know all about, but perhaps most importantly, it’s a symbol for the golden ratio, which is this thing:

I’m not great at math, so watch this video:

Right. So. One of the things the little video mentioned but deserves more elaboration is the Fibonacci number. From Wikipedia:

In the West, the Fibonacci sequence first appears in the book Liber Abaci (1202) by Leonardo of Pisa, known as Fibonacci. Fibonacci considers the growth of an idealized (biologically unrealistic) rabbit population, assuming that: a newly born pair of rabbits, one male, one female, are put in a field; rabbits are able to mate at the age of one month so that at the end of its second month a female can produce another pair of rabbits; rabbits never die and a mating pair always produces one new pair (one male, one female) every month from the second month on. The puzzle that Fibonacci posed was: how many pairs will there be in one year?

At the end of the first month, they mate, but there is still only 1 pair.

At the end of the second month the female produces a new pair, so now there are 2 pairs of rabbits in the field.

At the end of the third month, the original female produces a second pair, making 3 pairs in all in the field.

At the end of the fourth month, the original female has produced yet another new pair, the female born two months ago produces her first pair also, making 5 pairs.

At the end of the nth month, the number of pairs of rabbits is equal to the number of new pairs (which is the number of pairs in month n − 2) plus the number of pairs alive last month (n − 1). This is the nth Fibonacci number.

n = a freaking overwhelming population explosion of rabbits is what n equals, kinda like what Miracle Day hath wrought.

But yeah, phi, the golden ratio, is one of those fascinating numbers, one of those naturally occurring phenomena that convince people that there is some sort of order, some design in the universe. They find it too coincidental that all of these disparate natural phenomena would follow such a similar pattern.

Phi as a symbol of balance, a sort of cosmic harmony, which is why it’s ironic that it is being used as the name of this pharmaceutical company, which appears to have something to do with the natural order being knocked off-balance. Life requires the counter balance of death: not only for the continuation of the species in a purely physical way, but also for our own sense of purpose, either as a sense of urgency, so as to make best use of our time here on Earth, or in some sort of hope for and focus on the afterlife. And so, the question is, is PhiCorp’s plan been all along to replace the natural balance, the natural order with their own order? To replace death with their own counterweight? They are realigning the grand design with something … else. And what is that, anyway? This, of course, is based on the presumption that PhiCorp is merely an Earthly entity, working for Earthly (read: monetary) ends. Which this, being Torchwood, we know it won’t be that simple at all.